Legacy
by esmeeeeme
Summary: It was months of rigorous training, years of going to missions around the country. All fighting against the Templars, against his father's order. And finally, at twenty two, it would pay off to defeat the Templars once and for all. One shot, Modern AU, Secret Santa


**Modern AC drabbles for my Secret Santa, aka tumblr user** **kaidaning! Merry Christmas! Enjoy!**

* * *

The snowfall outside of the fort had turned into a blizzard.

"Haytham Kenway."

"Adéwalé."

"Where is your hunting dog, Grand Master Templar? I must have caused quite a ruckus for both of you to be chasing me."

"Indeed, you have been a thorn in our side for far too long!"

Adewale sighed, disappointment evident in his voice. "I served with your father, Haytham. I am more than certain that he is ashamed to see what you have become."

"Really? I wasn't aware my father had a sense of shame."

"Do not speak ill of your father, boy! If you become half the man he was, it will be a blessing!" Adewale retorted.

"Blessing or curse, I am my own man. Have you had enough, old man?"

Adewale laughed. "This old man will put you in an early grave, Haytham!" he exclaimed. "Oh, such a shame to believed that I was once proud to be your godfather."

"Younger men have tried and failed!"

A knife stuck out from Adewales back.

"Forgive me, Adéwalé."

A deep Irish accented voice said.

"You dare beg forgiveness, child? Hell welcomes traitors like you."

"Then I go there proudly, knowing I have done right," Shay Patrick Cormac

"It does not matter... Achilles already has what he needs."

"I will kill every last man who defends him, if I must. I cannot let him succeed."

"You... have become... a monster, Shay."

Shay cocked the gun and aimed at Adewale's forehead. "Perhaps I have."

He pulled the trigger.

* * *

Kenway.

He didn't use his surname for many reasons. Outside the Brotherhood, Connor Kenway was seen as just another quiet guy in the background. He was rather tall, slightly intimidating looking, but he knew that he was a more than what he looked. He played varsity lacrosse and football for a while, earning the patches on his letterman. But really, he knew that he was perceived of being quiet. He also knew that people around his neighborhood in Boston cared for him, as he did for them in return.

That was, before he accidently got himself wrapped up in the fight between the Templars and the Assassins.

Overtime, he grew to prove himself to be a feared assassin and captain. Smuggling goods, exploring, bringing down Templars, one by one.

Inadvertently, he also helped spread the Brotherhood into the Caribbean and into the United States. He helped strengthened its hold there, and while Edward was a man far from morals, he still was a pretty decent assassin.

Eventually he settled down and got married, had a few kids. Peace would not last long.

Then came his father.

Haytham Kenway.

When Connor asked his mother about where his dad was, all she said was that he worked in affairs that would jeopardize him and she would rather not talk about it.

So, in search for answers, he went to his grandfather when he was eleven. And he learned many things when he finally met Edward Kenway. Aside from him being a talented assassin and mentor to the American Brotherhood, Edward introduced Connor to a world of assassins and templars and the conflict that has been ongoing for generations.

Edward gave his grandson a choice, and Connor said yes.

Haytham Kenway was the Grand Master of the Templar Order.

They had been around for a while now, and like the Auditores, their importance was no secret on both sides of the Assassin and Templar war. Their involvement had stretched back to the past. But unlike the Auditores who had roots all the way to the Renaissance, the Kenways were more recent.

At fourteen, Connor was formally inducted into the Brotherhood. He received the traditional robes from his grandfather, robes that were once his. They were rarely worn unless there was an occasion, such as a funeral or a new assassin induction ceremony.

He knew he was a subject of talk among the assassins. The Grand Master's father and son, fighting against him. Something as talkable as that had not happened in a while. Family issues were nothing new when it came to being part of the brotherhood, but his was one that people talked about frequently.

It was months of rigorous training, years of going to missions around the country. All fighting against the Templars, against his father's order.

And finally, at twenty two, it would pay off to defeat the Templars once and for all.

* * *

The boardroom was frustratingly tense with twelve assassins. Normally, it would have been thirteen.

But Adewale's missing chair would no longer count.

When Edward had first found out of the death of his best friend three days ago, he denied it. He couldn't believe it. There wasn't a possible way.

"Do not take my father for a fool. I have met the man and he is far from it," Connor said. "It's not misplaced sentimentality, it's the honest truth. My father is not stupid. He can see through our ways, don't forget that my grandfather is an assassin too," Connor said, glancing at Edward, who nodded in return. "We can't enter this blind. He's familiar with how we work. Extremely, considering how close he is with Robert and Lucy."

"What are you considering then?"

"We need to find their headquarters and at least crack them down to their last straw. Stri them of their funds, their suoolies, whatever is necessary. Abstergo finances the Templars, that's a target right there. We stri them from their riches, eventually they crack."

"We have tried getting an assassin in their inner circle. Look how well that went," William said. He didn't have to say that he referred to Lucy, who ultimately ended up turning against the Assassins.

Desmond thought differently.

"Oh, inner circle." he said. "I think we already did."

It took Connor a few moments to realize Desmond meant himself.

"What was his name...Subject 16…..Oh right, Clay. We got him in the inner circle. Look how well that went."

There was uncomfortable silence in the boardroom.

"And then there was me. Two years," Desmond leaned back sarcastically. "Please do bother to enlighten me how well did that go"

"Now, now, Desmond, there's no need for hostility," William Miles said.

"Hostility my ass, you _let_ me be taken away," Desmond said, leaning across the table. "You let the Templars take me away for the sake of getting the intel."

"What, you're gonna try and hit me again? Go ahead, take a hit. I'll punch you back," Desmond snarled.

 _This isn't good._

"Dez, don't do it," Connor warned.

"I am so fucking tired of being treated like a pawn. Why did you let them use me? Why did you let Abstergo keep me for two fucking years?"

"We weren't able to find you."

"Don't give me that bullshit. You damn well could, but you didn't. You didn't bother to search for your own son, because you were too damn busy chasing after a myth. You are no better than the goddamn Templars!"

"Enough!" Edward yelled. "We are straying from the topic at hand, and it's how are we going to deal with the rogue and one of our own getting captured…..To hell with this, meeting adjourned."

Everyone bolted out of their seats.

Edward remained in the boardroom, silently counting to ten, then back again.

"Grandfather?" Connor asked, his voice frail.

"Oh lad...I didn't mean to snap," Edward said

"I know you didn't mean to."

"It's just…"

"I know. Uncle Ade."

The words struck at Edwards soul, of heartbreak and loss. There couldn't be a possible way that Adewale, one of _the_ legendary assassins, was dead. Edward had seen the pictures of the scene and he had sobbed. He had sobbed to the point Connor had to make sure he was okay.

"It still hurts," Edward said quietly. Connor didn't say anything as he pulled his grandfather into a hug, murmuring words of comfort.

* * *

There no longer was a what if. It was definite. In order to succeed and not allow the Templars to have control, he needed to kill his father.

Edward's expression darkened when the board agreed to do so.

Connor had to walk out, and finally onto the roof of the headquarters.

"Figured I'd find you here."

Connor looked behind him and saw Desmond approaching him

"That meeting. Stressful, wasn't it?"

Connor let out a small sigh, a ghost of a smile on his face. He shook his head, but nevertheless appreciated Desmond's presence.

"Jesus," Desmond laid on his back. "And I thought I had dad issues."

Connor let out a small dry laugh. "Believe me, I wouldn't know where to start."

"Are you really going to have to kill him?" Desmond asked.

"I guess so."

Crickets chirped in the distance

"It's just..." Connor began, then stopped. "Do you think there could be a chance of unity? Of a temporal alliance?" he asked. "We both have the same goals, but evidently different paths."

He hated how naive he sounded with the idea. It was foolish. The Templars were the enemy for generations, with the sworn goal to get to the goal of ruling with an iron fist and take out whoever stands in their way.

But what could be so bad that it tore his family apart?

His aunt Jennifer never visited. Adewale was dead. And Haytham….His father was the grandmaster himself.

"We've tried to work with them before," Desmond said. "But those temporal alliances always ended in blood."

He noticed Connor's silence and the distant look on his face. "It's a hard thing to go through, I know. He's your dad," Desmond continued. "And as much you want to hate the bastard...He's still your dad."

"You speak from experience?" Connor asked.

"Yeah."

"Guess I really have to kill him, don't I?"

After brief silence, Desmond sighed out an answer "Yeah."

It was hopeless. It really was the point of no return. To succeed and thwart the power and order of the Templars, Haytham Kenway had to die.

"God, I just want some answers," Connor said. "Is...Is it that hard to find out why"

"I am one ugly crier, aren't I?" Connor scoffed.

"There is no beautiful crying. Just loud and soft crying….Like sex."

Connor broke out into a laugh, "Goddammit Desmond," he said.

* * *

Kadar was the only surviving assassin after being taken by Abstergo.

"Malik?"

"Sorry, buddy. It's Desmond. Malik's waiting for you," Desmond said.

"Dez, coast is clear," Rebecca said into the radio. "Bring him home."

"You...you were taken by Abstergo, right?"

Desmond's expression didn't change. "Yeah. Years ago, but yeah."

"You're familiar with their methods?"

"Oh yeah."

"I..." No more words came from Kadar. The younger assassins bottom lip trembled. Desmond knew that it hurt too much to mention it.

"I know," Desmond said gently. He unzipped his hoodie and slid it over the kid's shoulders, looking far too big over his thin shoulders.

"Can you walk?"

Kadar shook his head.

"Alright, let me carry you to the getaway van."

Jesus, the kid was light enough to carry. He held on tight, like a terrified child with their parent. Desmond didn't ask any questions and simply headed to the van, thanking his lucky stars that Kadar was safe.

And that for once, he wasn't be holding a cadaver of a fallen assassin.

* * *

"Malik!"

Kadar looked so tiny in Malik's embrace. He wept into his neck, babbling sobs of fear with mixed Arabic and English and he wouldn't let go.

"Shhh, shhh, Kadar," Malik murmured. "I'm right here." He pressed a kiss onto his forehead. "I'm right here, my brother."

"I was so scared,"

"You're safe now," Malik reassured. "You're safe now, and that's what matters."

Malik looked up, fresh tears leaving streaks on his cheeks. _Thank you_ , he mouthed.

Desmond nodded and left the brothers some privacy.

* * *

Desmond sat outside, his hood drawn.

It begun to rain. But at this rate, he didn't care. Let the goddamn rain pour a puddle around him. Let it flood the goddamn city.

Abstergo was behind it.

Human experimentation on knowledge that has been locked away for generations upon generations. It was power that was too much for a regular human to handle. A power that drove humanity to insanity at one point in time. No, multiple points in time. It's what led to

But this time, Abstergo went too far.

Kadar was innocent. One of the youngest assassins there was, one of the kindest. Malik was close to him as a brother could be

Desmond felt it personal.

Thankfully, Desmond didn't beat Silas to death, even though he clearly deserved it. Even though he clearly deserved to have the hidden blade in his throat. Connor stopped him in time.

Then for the first time, Desmond cried. in anguish. He cursed out loud and

Blood dripped from his knuckles, his heart beating heavily against his throat. Anger shook his body, but also fear.

It was seeing the bloodstains on the wrists of his hoodie and his hands shaking after Connor yanked him away from Silas that reminded him of just how far he could have gone.

And the mangled bodies of dead test subjects in his warehouse.

He couldn't get their images out of his head.

The victims that were alive were begging for mercy. To kill them, to end their misery. Currently, they were in an offsite clinic not too far from the headquarters, getting the medical recovery they needed.

The world of Assassins was a terrible, terrifying one.

He was waiting for Connor to finish with whatever the hell he was doing inside. After this, he doesn't know. Lecture, reconnaissance, investigation. His thoughts were too consumed by memories, old and recent. He already got his reprimand from Edward about beating up a would be prisoner.

He left him alive, though, which is saying something.

Desmond didn't feel well. He wasn't able to sleep much the previous night; who could sleep after going through that anyway?

It had all felt too personal. The pale blue walls of Abstergo, the hell they put him through. And the fact that they went worse with teenagers and children.

It enraged him, made his blood chill to his bone.

But through the storm, through it all, Kadar was safe. though, and seeing the comfort Malik took in seeing his little brother was all that mattered.

Connor knew. He always gave Desmond his space.

"You're going to get a cold."

For a brief moment, the rain drops around him stopped falling. Desmond didn't have to look up to see Connor with a large umbrella.

"A cold is the least of my problems," Desmond said flatly.

They stood in silence for a few moments, the rain continuing to fall.

"Let's go," Connor offered a hand which Desmond took.

* * *

The same night, Desmond had a nightmare.

"Desmond, listen to me," Connor said. "Desmond, come on, listen to me. Listen to my voice, okay. You're not in Abstergo anymore. You're safe. Your name is Desmond Miles and you're twenty five years old and your favorite drink to make is the Shirley Templar."

"Connor?"

"Yes, it's me."

"Thank God,"

"They fucked up Clay so bad, Connor. He was my stepbrother, you know, from William's first marriage. He got so fucked up. He killed himself. It could have been me, Connor."

"But it wasn't. It isn't. It will never be."

"Bill left me there,"

"Is that what triggered you?"

"Yeah."

Connor said nothing, instead just pulling him closer and gently running his fingers through his hair. Desmond sighed, closing his eyes and leaning into his touch.

For a few moments, it was just silent as Desmond's breaths steadied and he felt more grounded. More aware of the warmth around him.

He knew that Connor was not fond of touching and would avoid it at all costs. He relished in the fact that he was one of the few people that Connor enjoyed to have contact.

"I'm getting tears on your hoodie," Desmond said.

"It's okay," Connor replied,

Desmond slipped back into a dreamless sleep, with the warmth of Connor's arms reminding him of home.

* * *

A part of the modern training is raising an eagle. It was only for the assassins that were near higher rank and a rather newer tradition, but Edward enjoyed teaching it. It implemented discipline, responsibility and of course, who wouldn't want a pet eagle

"Damn," Desmond said, tilting his head back to look up at the sky as his chestnut colored eagle flew around the trees. "That's one majestic ass eagle."

"You have a way with words, Desmond Miles," Shaun remarked.

"Hell yeah I do. Drives the ladies wild," Desmond said. He heard Connor's snort through the communicator and he grinned, knowing it did the job. "Where is she?" Desmond asked to himself, looking through the branches to find his eagle.

"I don't think I have met her yet," Rebecca said. "What's her name?"

"Her name is Shirley Templar."

"Oh course, you would name it after one of your drinks," Shaun said. "Shirley Templar. Need I to remind you that we are _Assassins._ "

"Jesus Dez, that's borderline blasphemy," Rebecca remarked.

"It _is_ blasphemy," Edward remarked. "But then again, Connor named his Eagle, so," the mentor shrugged.

Rebecca let out a low whistle. "Buuuurn," she uttered into the intercom. "Old man is taking the side of a sinner!"

At the fallen log on the ground, Connor protectively stroked the head of his eight week old bald eagle, Adonio.

And yes, it was the Mohawk word for eagle.

"We're all sinners here, what are you talking about?" Desmond asked.

"At least it's not Shirley Templar," Connor rolled his eyes.

Edward whistled, a high pitched three note melody and his loyal bird, a large beautiful black African eagle flew from the trees and perched onto his gloved arm.

"This here is the Jackdaw," he said. "Ain't she a beauty?"

He scratched the bottom of her beak a little bit and let her fly loose again.

"Where's Altair's eagle?" Connor asked.

"It's the Harpy eagle. Um, I think her name is Zuhaira."

"A Harpy eagle for Altair is fitting because he never stops harping around," Desmond said. Connor snickered under his breath.

Unknown to Desmond, Altair was quietly feeding his eagle a mouse and overheard the entire conversation. Not changing a beat, he simply commanded, "Zuhaira, attack Desmond."

A screech followed by Desmond's screaming and Edward's hysterical laughter as the one foot tall eagle attacked Desmond Miles.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Happy Holidays!**


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